


Scars Healed Over

by RiverFlynn7



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-21 21:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13749483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverFlynn7/pseuds/RiverFlynn7
Summary: Canon-adjacent short of a secret surfacing and how WayHaught handles the strain it puts between them. Set after Alice is gone. Momentary reference of Dolls and Jeremy.





	1. Don't Call Me Baby

**Author's Note:**

> This work will alternate between Nicole and Waverly's POV each chapter. Five chapters means we begin and end with Nicole. It is first person present POV, so I understand if you don't like that style, but if you can, give it a chance. I'd really love your opinions.

**Nicole**

Lying in Waverly’s bed, I feel content for the first time since delivering Alice to Perry. It’s the most quiet we’ve had in weeks, and Wynonna is finally beginning to allow herself some semblance of normalcy again, though she remains a paradox of melancholic determination. Within the confines of this bedroom, however, everything feels safe, as if nothing has changed. Nothing can touch us.

I lie on my back, Waverly’s body curled into mine with her head on my chest and a leg draped possessively over my thigh. Her hand rests on my stomach, just below the hem of my shirt, and I relish in the warm contact of that small bit of skin on skin. I trace her spine absentmindedly, caressing with light fingertips from the small of her back up between her shoulder blades and down again, and she sighs into me. These are the moments that get me through the double shifts, the overnights, the crazy calls that come over the radio at the station that keep me busy for hours after my quitting time. Savoring the soft comfort of her small frame pressed to my side, I tuck away the feeling into memory for safe-keeping.

It occurs to me suddenly that I’ve been tucking away memories since the moment I met Waverly. Each encounter, every interaction, each touch, every kiss are all locked away in my mind, ready to be called upon at a moment’s notice. So often do I think back on them that they haven’t even had the opportunity to fade yet, and each day brings with it new memories to capture and keep. Pulling my thoughts back from past to present, I smile. Holding Waverly is like coming home.

“What’s going on in that beautiful mind?” I ask, tucking a lock of stray hair behind Waverly’s ear. She glances up at me with a sleepy grin and plants a kiss on my collarbone.

“I was just thinking about how perfect this is.”

Placing a gentle peck to the top of her head, I say, “We’ve suffered through a lot to be here, in this moment… but it’s days like this that make all the bad days worth it. Being here with you is more than I could have asked for, Wave. This is… it’s nothing like what I imagined my life would become when I took a job as a Deputy Sheriff in a strange little town called Purgatory nearly 2000 miles from home.”

“Any regrets?” she whispers as if she’s afraid I might hear her and actually answer.

“Part of me wants to say, ‘only that I didn’t meet you sooner’, but I can’t, if I’m honest. I think meeting you when I did was some fleeting act of fate… because if I had met you before that moment, I don’t believe you would have been ready for this, for us. So… to answer your question, no. Not a single regret, at least not about us.” I explain.

I feel a shift in her body, a tension which causes me to add the question, “You?”

Pushing up on her elbow, her hand pulls away from my stomach, and I immediately miss the contact. She looks me in the eye with a teary expression. It’s a look of conflicting emotions, like affection and something akin to fear are warring beneath the surface. A feeling of worry courses through me, and I prop myself up to mirror her, free hand raised to cup her cheek.

“Waves… baby, what’s wrong?”

Without saying a word, she turns away from me and leaves the bed, rising to pace the floor. Confused by this unexpected reaction, I twist myself up into a sitting position, hands gripping the sheets at the edge of the mattress. Silently, my eyes track her path, back and forth across the wooden floor, trying to be patient until she’s ready to talk about whatever is obviously upsetting her.

The moments tick by, and still she says nothing. Unable to stand the uncomfortable silence, I stand and cover the distance between us with three strides and stop her pacing with steady hands on her tense shoulders. Even frozen, arm’s length apart, she still refuses to meet my eye.

“Look at me.” I keep my voice soft, comforting. “Please.”

Her eyes rise to my face, but stop at my lips, too unsure to meet my gaze. I feel my brow crease with confusion, not knowing what I’ve done to cause her fear or pain. Sensing her continued hesitation, I try one last time. Squeezing her shoulders gently, I begin to say her name in a tone usually reserved for when I’m in uniform, but I hope that the authority in it will bring her focus to me. She cuts me off before her name can fully escape my lips.

“Waver…” I begin, almost harshly, but the last syllable disappears as she nearly shouts her confession. 

“I kissed Rosita!”

As the words tumble nervously out of her mouth, the world around me stills and tilts. My hands drop from her shoulders, heavy as lead. My mind feels as if a sudden fog has rolled in, my breath freezes in my chest, and my eyes fall completely out of focus. A sharp pain resonates behind my rib cage as if someone has just clenched my heart in a vice, and I visibly flinch. I silently wonder if it’s still beating at all.

Through the haze, I can see her face, eyes wide and vulnerable, cheeks wet with spilled tears, bottom lip quivering. She looks terrified. My first instinct, even now, is to immediately pull her into me, comfort her, reassure her that her fears are nothing in the face of our love, but I am rooted to the spot. The weight of her betrayal holds me there, shocked and reeling with a flood of emotions I haven’t felt in so long… emotions I never thought I’d feel at the mercy of Waverly Earp. I wasn’t prepared for this. I thought nothing could hurt me in this room, but I was wrong.

As an officer, my training gave me all the tools I need to be ready for any situation. Whether I’m called out to a robbery, a shooting, a gruesome multi-vehicle pileup on the highway, or otherwise, I know how to respond. When lives are in danger and the stakes are high, I am trained to keep a level head under immense pressure. I am sworn to serve and protect, and I do my job to keep everyone safe, but… there’s no such thing as a bulletproof vest, no training, no calling for backup when the victim of the crime is my own heart.

Lost in my own mind, I wonder how I became so vulnerable, how I let my guard down so completely, and then I remember hazel green eyes. I remember a smile like sunshine and the scent of wildflowers, honey-brown hair between my fingers and taut muscles moving under soft skin at the mercy of my mouth. I remember her adorable pout. I remember the intoxicating combination of sweetness and fierceness that makes her my Waverly. I remember the way she rambles when she’s nervous or excited, the setting of her jaw when she’s focused. I remember her bravery. I remember the feeling of her delicate yet strong hands cradling my face when she kisses me. I remember soft lips… and then I flinch as the intrusive image of those soft lips kissing Rosita flood my mind, and I snap out of my fog.

“When?” I ask somewhat forcefully, looking in Waverly’s direction, but my eyes refuse to land on her.

“Nicole, I…”

“When?” This time it’s barely a whisper.

“The night before Mercedes attacked you. We were fighting, Nicole, and I was so angry at you for keeping my own DNA results from me. I felt manipulated, and I’d been drinking. I sent that horrible text message. I know that, despite what you did and how upset I was, it gave me no right to cheat on you. I knew as soon as it happened that it was completely wrong. The first thing out of my mouth afterward was about you. Nicole... I’m so, so sorry, ba...”

“Don’t.” I cut her off, sharply.

“Don’t what?” In my peripheral vision, I can see her eyes searching me wildly, trying to read what I’m feeling, what I’ll say next.

“Don’t call me ‘baby’.” I say. My voice is quiet and even, but I see her flinch as if I’ve struck her. By the look on her face, I wonder if she might have preferred that. Without waiting for her to respond, I turn on my heel, walk out of the bedroom, and start down the stairs.

Behind me, I hear Waverly plead, “Nicole, please don’t go…” but the sound reaches my ears as if through water, distant and distorted. At the muffled sound of her voice, I feel as if there is a white-hot iron protruding from my chest where I’ve been speared through the heart with it. I need to drive and to think, or maybe... not think at all.

Passing through the front door as Wynonna ascends the steps to the porch, she gives me a wide smile just before realizing something is wrong. Storming past her without a greeting, or even acknowledgement, she turns, her eyes following me curiously.

“You alright there, Haught?”

Without a word, I stride across the yard and lower myself into the police cruiser. With numb fingers, I turn the key in the ignition, and drive fast and far away from the Earp Homestead.


	2. Step One... Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Waverly's confession, Nicole has stormed out. Waverly is left to deal with the consequences, along with a bit of "helpful" advice from Wynonna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work will alternate between Nicole and Waverly's POV each chapter. Five chapters means we begin and end with Nicole. It is first person present POV, so I understand if you don't like that style, but if you can, give it a chance. I'd really love your opinions.

**Waverly**

Thinking back to when we met, to the stolen glances and light caresses, I remember all the things about Nicole that had me falling harder and faster in love than I’d ever thought possible. I fell before I knew what that meant. Now, it’s so clear to me that I had no chance of doing anything but loving Nicole Haught. Of course.

Nicole is unwavering. She’s even-tempered with a bright mind, powerful but gentle, fiercely caring, and patient beyond reason. She has a self-confidence that is steadfast, but not overbearing. From the first day she walked into Shorty's barroom, she looked at me, even drenched in cheap beer, like I was a treasure. She hasn’t stopped looking at me the same way since, until last night. She is all of the things missing from my life.

Though it took me far too long to wade through my feelings, eventually my heart silenced the fears of my mind, and I knew she was what I wanted, no… needed. It was her quiet strength, her unconditional support, the soft brown eyes that seemed to see straight into my soul, and honestly… that dimple on her left cheek when she flashed her roguish grin, that filled in the cracks left in me by all those who had come and gone.

The reminiscence is bittersweet as I sit alone on the couch at the Homestead, knees pulled up to my chest, and stare through teary eyes into the fire in the furnace. It’s been 24 hours since I last heard from Nicole. The last thing she said before she left plays on repeat in my head.

_“Don’t call me ‘baby’.”_

The words, and the pain behind them, create a new fracture in my heart every time I relive them. The shock and hurt on Nicole’s face is etched in my memory, her haunted eyes that refused to look at me. Learning of her marriage with Shae was painful, but in the midst of nearly losing her, I knew it didn’t matter. Shae was a part of Nicole’s past, a choice she made before she knew me. The mistakes of her youth are things she can’t change, but it’s clear that they were over before we began, and there truly never was a good opportunity for Nicole to broach the subject, so forgiving her for not telling me was simple. Even Shae Pressman, the gorgeous lady doctor who revealed the heart-stopping secret of their marriage, told me with conviction how much Nicole loved me. If her own wife says it, it must be true, right?

My indiscretions are different. Kissing another woman out of fear and anger is a singular kind of betrayal. It’s personal, and though I have no right to be upset with Nicole for leaving, I wish desperately that she would let me explain. She has never been the type to walk away, always the one to talk things through, hearing all sides, making a just and fair decision. It’s part of what makes her a great cop, but moreso, a great partner. But I know this is different. This time, she took a direct hit, and I need to fix it. I have to. Picking up my phone, I call her for the fifth time today.

 _"You've reached Deputy Sheriff Haught. Leave a message."_ The call goes straight to voicemail without ringing. Her phone is off. She never turns it off in case the station calls, but I know she’s off duty today, and it’s clear she wants to be alone. This doesn’t stop me from trying. The tone for recording sounds, and I haven’t prepared anything to say.

“I, uh… it’s me, and I… Look, I know you must be exhausted with hearing ‘sorry’, but Nicole, please… _please_ call me back. I’m worried… scared, actually, and I just need to know that you’re ok. Baby, please…” and then I end the call as my voice cracks on the last word. Fresh tears swell in my eyes, spilling down my cheeks. The irony of our reversed roles, me leaving pleading voicemails for her to forgive me when just weeks ago, I was the one ignoring her calls, is not lost on me. It only makes the sobs that wrack my body more painful.

Half an hour later, I hear the heavy thud of Wynonna’s boots coming up the front steps. She’s wearing the same leather pants and red off-the-shoulder long sleeve blouse that she wore out last night, and the way her normally perfect hair is mussed gives a pretty clear indication that her arrival this morning is probably more of a resurfacing from a night spent in with Dolls. As she comes around the couch to crouch in front of me, I can see the concern in her blue eyes.

“Any word?” she asks simply, and I shake my head.

“Look… I want to help, but you’re gonna have to walk me through this, Babygirl. I’m here for you, always, but I’m not as good at all this… comforting stuff as Hau…” she comes up short before she gets the whole name out, visibly flinching at her own insensitivity. “Shit.”

Last night, Wynonna had burst through my bedroom door after Nicole’s strange departure, only to find me frozen in shock, still standing right where Nicole’s strong hands had found my shoulders and stopped my pacing. Seeing the state I was in, she began questioning what happened, her concern almost immediately turning to anger as she spewed threats to hurt Nicole if she had done anything to hurt me. It only took a few minutes to explain but hours to recover, my sister leading me down to the living room and laying my head in her lap, stroking my hair as I cried uncontrollably for the damage I’d done. She wasn’t as awful at comforting as she believed, but she was still Wynonna. Once I passed out, she must have left, because I woke up alone.

Bringing me back to the present, she stirs awkwardly. Changing tactics, she pops up from her squat and says, “Tea. I’m going to make you some tea. You want a donut? I’m having one. I’ll bring you one, and then we’ll come up with a plan”, and strides toward the kitchen.

“Plan?” I ask. My voice is shaky, but I can’t hide the curious hopefulness that colors it. Maybe Wynonna and I can come up with a way to reach out to Nicole, to show her the depth of my regret and the unfathomable love I have for her. Maybe it will be enough. Maybe.

“I messed up, Wy.” I sigh as she places a fresh mug of tea in my hands and sits on the couch next to me, crossing a leg underneath her.

“I was overthinking and not thinking at all, and I messed up. Royally messed up. Why? Why did I kiss Rosita? I don’t even like her that way… She was just there, and I was upset. I’m so stupid. I’ve betrayed the only person who’s ever really seen me, and now I don’t know what to do.” I begin to ramble, feeling more nervous and scared the more I speak. “How do I fix this?”

“Whoa, Waves… cool your jets a second. I get that you’re scared that this is like… not fixable... no, what's the word?"

Her expression looks strained and confused, so I help her out. "Irreparable," I say.

"Yeah, that... irreparable or something, but, coming from someone who has hurt a _lot_ of people in her life, and been forgiven more times than I deserved… Nicole is one of the good ones, the _best_ , actually. Don’t tell her I said that.” she says as she pulls a face in reaction to the slight sentimentality of her statement. It draws a chuckle out of me, but I sober quickly, feeling as if I don’t deserve to be cheered up.

“You didn’t see the look on her face or the wall that went up behind her eyes the moment the words left my mouth. She probably hates me. Why would she forgive me? I just got her back, and now I’ve hurt her, Wy... ” The rambling starts again as I feel tears welling in my eyes for what feels like the hundredth time since Nicole walked away from me. My throat closes up, and I look toward the ceiling in attempt to keep them from falling. It doesn’t work, and soon there are fresh trails of saltwater down my cheeks.

“Aaaaanyway,” Wynonna continues, made uncomfortable by too much emotion, “the point I’m trying to make, Waverly, is that Nicole Haught is strong. She knows how to navigate heartache, and she’s got a good head on her shoulders. Also, most importantly, she loves the Hell out of you, Babygirl. She’ll come around when she’s ready to talk… And when she does, I’ll threaten her with Peacemaker to sit and listen to your explanation, if she won’t do it willingly. Hell, I may threaten her anyway just for kicks.” Wynonna smirks mischievously.

Shaking my head, I can’t help but adore my sister’s ridiculous antics and problem-solving skills. If she can’t point her gun at it and get her way, she’s stumped.

“I appreciate the pep-talk, Wy… but what’s the plan?”

“Step one,” she says, reaching for a stashed bottle of whiskey and spinning the cap off. “...drink.” Throwing her head back, she takes a massive chug and smiles at me proudly. She tips the bottle my direction in offering, and I simply roll my eyes. I can’t help but smile, however, because of course Wynonna’s plan would start off with whiskey… Of course. But whiskey won’t bring Nicole home. Hanging my head, I sigh, hoping I can fix this mess I’ve made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this and want to see where it leads, please leave comments. If this fic is well received, I have a longer potential fic for these characters in the works. A continuation, of sorts.
> 
> If you spot any errors, they are my own.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy, and all feedback is welcome!
> 
> Catch me on:  
> Instagram: @riverflynn7  
> Snapchat: riverflynn7  
> Tumblr: riverflynn7  
> Twitter: @riverflynn7


	3. A Lifeline and a Time Bomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole's head is reeling from the revelation of Waverly and Rosita's kiss. She has to get away from Purgatory to clear her head and reassess what she truly wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work will alternate between Nicole and Waverly's POV each chapter. Five chapters means we begin and end with Nicole. It is first person present POV, so I understand if you don't like that style, but if you can, give it a chance. I'd really love your opinions.

**Nicole**

It’s late afternoon, and I sit in a seedy little bar on the outskirts of the nearest big town to Purgatory, working on my sixth tumbler of whiskey since noon. I’m not usually one to day-drink, especially when I have no one to drive me home, and yet, in this moment, I don’t care. This drunkenness I’m well beyond “working towards” will probably get me in a world of trouble, but I just need the numbness for a few hours.

Before leaving for the city, I drove home on autopilot. Straight from the Homestead, I made only a pit stop at my house. I fed Calamity Jane and changed into clothes that didn’t hold the lingering scent of Waverly, tossed a fresh outfit in a duffle bag, then pointed my cruiser towards the nearest highway that led away from Purgatory. I spent the night in a slightly rundown motel with three channels on the television and a leaking shower faucet. I didn’t mind, so long as the sheets were clean, and I had a place to stay off the grid for a night, alone with my thoughts and away from anything that would remind me of her. As if everything doesn’t remind me of her...

When I arrived last night, I had turned on the only strong FM station I could find on the alarm clock radio, old country music (which seemed fitting) and turned off my phone, falling across the bed and taking in the rest of the details around the room. The bedspread was new, but the wallpaper seemed faded. There was no Wi-Fi or cable TV. The lights were a warm, opaque yellow, but almost too dim. In the air hung a smell, not unpleasant, but with an edge of that aged musk of deterioration. It wasn’t falling apart, but no one cared for it the way they should. Maybe the self-pitying part of me felt like I could relate, if only for a moment.  
On any normal occasion, Happy Nicole would have paid the extra $40 for a night in a nicer hotel in the city. She would have opted for one with a high class bar or a casino downstairs and room service that had steak on the menu. Heartbroken Nicole, however, somehow felt like she _deserved_ this. All she could do was choose a dingy hotel that gave her surroundings to match how she felt inside. Heartbroken Nicole wanted to hide, to lick her wounds and heal. So... a cheap room off the beaten path became my sanctuary, at least for the night.

From the looks of it, the motel had once been a nice little place, but time and progress leaves us all behind eventually. People move on to newer, more exciting things… and people. I balk at the thought and throw back the last swig of my whiskey, signaling the bartender for another.

“You alright, miss?” he asks, tone and eyes gentle, and I can tell he’s well-practiced at this generic conversation starter. He had already tried a few other cliches to lure me to talk, but I didn’t bite. Grabbing the bottle and giving it a flourish, he pours two fingers of liquor in the glass and drops a couple of fresh ice cubes in. “Last one,” he says with a look that says _'I mean it'_ , gesturing to round seven. I nod silently, and with a shrug of sympathy, he adds a third finger of whiskey and slides it my way.

“I will be.” I say flatly, knowing it’s true but unable to say how soon. Even I can hear the slur in my own voice, and I know he’s right to cut me off.

“It’s pretty slow in here if you need an ear to bend.” He says, giving a reassuring smile, and I’m drunk enough now that I’m almost tempted to bend it… but how would I even begin?

Do I tell him that it’s just girl trouble? Do I admit that I skipped dinner and cried myself to sleep, or that I didn’t crawl out of bed until noon, just before I stumbled into his bar? Do I attempt to explain that since coming to Purgatory, my entire life has turned on its head? Graduating the police academy as a top class student with normal ambitions, normal friends, a normal homophobic family who shunned me, I thought I had it all but figured out. I’d take the first decent offer placed before me to get my rookie years out of the way and earn all the “real world experience” I could before working my way up the chain of command. It all seemed fairly cut and dry. I had a plan, and it was a good one… but now?

My life is a circus now. Day in and day out, I face things I never knew existed, demons and creatures, Revenants dead-set on escaping the boundaries of the Ghost River Triangle and wreaking havoc on the world. I’ve been deputized, and unceremoniously un-deputized by a top secret, cross-border intelligence agency. I’ve unwittingly ended up amongst a band of misfits, a strange array of characters who are the only real thing standing in the way of the demon population’s goal of world domination.

Since moving here, I’ve been nearly killed three times, and yet… I’ve experienced some of the brightest moments of my life in Purgatory, despite the chaos. I’ve made friends from all walks of life, some strict but stoic, others a bit unconventional but warm, some awkward but intelligent, and one who is really, really old... but kind. And then there’s her… the star around which my solar system orbits. She is the brightest thing in my life.

 _‘Was’_ , I think to myself, taking another sip of whiskey, too numb now to feel the burn as it slides smoothly down the back of my throat. The confession she made yesterday acted as a solar eclipse, throwing my entire world into the shadow of betrayal. I haven’t been able to escape the dark since, so here I sit.

“I ‘preciate the concern, but I’m really not up for talkin’ right now” I slur back at the bartender, turning down his offered ear. He stares at me pointedly for a few moments, seeming to gauge whether I meant it or I just didn’t want to be a bother. For a moment, we locked eyes, and he seemed to resign himself to the fact that I wasn’t looking for a pity party. Putting his hands up, as if he didn’t mean to impose, he nods his head with a sad smile and makes his way down the bar to another patron needing a refill.

Nursing the last of the whiskey I know I’ll see tonight, I think about my phone, still turned off but heavy in my pocket. In this moment, it feels both like a lifeline and a time bomb waiting to explode. I already know there will be messages waiting for me, texts and voicemails pleading for me to let Waverly explain, messages just like I left after keeping her DNA results from her. My intentions, however, were to protect her. I wasn’t there, but I feel certain the intentions behind her kiss with Rosita were anything but _good_.

Turning back the final drops of liquor in my glass, I fish the phone from my pocket. I’m sure, too, that there will be a few messages from Wynonna, some mad, some concerned. Hell, I might even have a missed call from Dolls or Nedley after being off the grid for a whole 24 hours, but I’m in no hurry to attempt defusing this metaphorical bomb. As long as it’s unopened, it can _still_ feel like a lifeline. I need something to anchor me right now. However, even my drunken mind knows I can’t run forever. I’m not done with this relationship. The pain may feel unbearable now, but I know she would never intentionally hurt me. Even sulking in this bar, I have to admit to myself that I miss her, and that the only person who can heal my heart is the one who broke it… Waverly Earp.

Struggles may lie ahead, but I just got her back… my Waverly. No matter how it hurts, I won’t let one indiscretion break us. We’ve both made mistakes. We’ve hurt each other, but that’s love. I love her. There are days that I wish I could take back the moment that I told her, sitting in Shorty’s with her looking at me like a stranger, but the words were no less true then than they are now. Waverly has had me completely captivated, mind, body, and soul, since we met. It would take a cosmic event to turn me away from her, and… maybe not even then could I walk away from her. She is my own personal breath of life, and I would die for her. We’re stronger than this, and I’m not saying goodbye.

Scrubbing a hand down my face, I power the phone on, place it face up on the bar, and watch all the messages flood in that have been circling around in the stratosphere waiting to land. The device buzzes like crazy. With a sigh of resignation, I give in. I’ll check them all, then I’ll call a ride to take me home... back to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this and want to see where it leads, please leave comments. If this fic is well received, I have a longer potential fic for these characters in the works. A continuation, of sorts.
> 
> If you spot any errors, they are my own.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy, and all feedback is welcome!
> 
> Catch me on:  
> Instagram: @riverflynn7  
> Snapchat: riverflynn7  
> Tumblr: riverflynn7  
> Twitter: @riverflynn7


	4. The Beautiful Heart I Have Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly and Wynonna retrieve the heartbroken officer from the bar on the outskirts of the city, and WayHaught struggles with the emotional rift between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work will alternate between Nicole and Waverly's POV each chapter. Five chapters means we begin and end with Nicole. It is first person present POV, so I understand if you don't like that style, but if you can, give it a chance. I'd really love your opinions.

**Waverly**

Dolls calls Wynonna hours later. Apparently Nicole is drunk, an hour from home, and has finally called him to pick her up, as she was in no state to drive. This is where my sister begins to really formulate the plan she promised earlier because, in typical Wynonna fashion, she never actually had one.

“Here we go, Babygirl. Dolls told Haught that he and Jeremy would be there in like an hour, but neither of them is going.” There’s a mischievous glint in her blue eyes.

“So the plan is to strand her while she’s drunk, Wy? Really? Hasn’t she been through enough without having to sober up alone in a strange place? She wouldn’t have even been drinking if it weren’t for me.” I scoff, not seeing how this helps.

“No, silly. Think with your big brain, Waves. We’re going to get her!” She motions between me and herself animatedly. “Someone has to bring her cruiser home or Nedley will have her ass, soooo…”

Scattered pieces falling into place, I finish her thought, “So she’ll ride back in the car with me and won’t be able to walk away for the entire hour it takes to drive home. Wynonna, you’re a genius!” I say, wrapping her in an excited hug, feeling real hope for the first time in 36 hours. I know it doesn’t guarantee that Nicole will forgive me, but I’ll be able to tell her what happened and what I want, how sorry I am. Then, at least she’ll know how I feel, even if she still decides to leave.

“Damn straight. Well…” Wynonna winks at me, but I don’t acknowledge her joke, glaring instead. “Oh, get your shit together, Waves. Let’s go get your girl.”

Pulling into the lot outside of The Dive, the dingy bar just off the main highway headed into the city, Wynonna parks her old pickup behind the familiar Purgatory Sheriff’s Department cruiser. I hop out of the cab and circle the patrol car, finding the driver side back door open, and the lower half of Nicole’s long legs dangling out of it. Standing with my knees nearly touching hers, I lean down toward the open door and see her lying on her back across the backseat, left arm draped over her eyes to shield them from the setting evening sun. Unsure if she’s asleep or not, I wonder whether I should say something in attempt to get her attention. I gently lay my hand on her thigh, but before I can think of what to say, Wynonna unceremoniously wrenches open the other back door, hoists Nicole up under her arms, and drags her out of the cruiser head first.

“Rise and shine, Haughtstuff! Your knight in shining leather has come... to your... rescue...” she grunts with effort, as Nicole startles and begins to flail. Unable to keep the thrashing officer in a steady grip, Wynonna drops her flat on her back on the gravel.

“Oh my god, Nicole! Are you okay?!” I gasp, running around the vehicle to kneel by her side.

“Ow…” is all a drunk, drowsy, and now-damaged Nicole groans, making no attempt to sit up.

“What the HELL, Wynonna?!” I turn on her angrily. “You could have seriously hurt her!”

“She didn’t fall that far,” my sister shrugs, nudging Nicole’s shoulder with the toe of her boot. “Plus, judging by the smell of whiskey rolling off of her, she’s had an Earp’s share. She’s not feeling a damn thing.”

“Don’t you dare start judgin’ me, Earp.” Nicole slurs with the faintest hint of that sarcastic grin, her dimple on display.

She props herself up on her elbows and blearily surveys her surroundings. Sweeping her gaze around, she takes in the cruiser beyond her feet, the bar front on her right, lolls her head back to see Wynonna peering down at her from above, and finally around to rest on me, still kneeling next to her in the gravel.

I watch silently as a kaleidoscope of emotions plays across her eyes, glassy from alcohol, but still so very much Nicole’s warm russet irises. After only a moment of pause, our gazes locked on each other, Wynonna impatiently kicks the loose gravel with her boot.

“It’s getting dark, Babygirl. We should get the good officer home.” she says to me, then turning to Nicole once more, “Up and at ‘em, Haught!” With that, my sister turns on her heel, hops into her truck, cranks it, and drives off. I’m sure this is her way of ensuring that Nicole has to ride with me, but it would have been nice to at least have help standing her up after Wynonna practically threw her on the ground.

When Nicole finally begins to sit up, I lean forward to take her elbow in attempt to assist her, but she pulls away from me. She doesn’t yank her arm from my grasp harshly, instead, simply sliding it from my hands, but it hurts all the same. “I got it,” she mumbles.

Standing, swaying slightly, she leans against the side of the cruiser.

“Where are the keys?” I ask, softly so as not to seem overly eager.

“Sam took ‘em.” she said with a shrug. When I didn’t answer, she looked up to see my confused expression and continued, “The bartender. Said he’d keep ‘em ‘til my designated driver ‘rived. Guess that’s you.”

“Okay. Well… just wait here. Sit down if you need to. You don’t exactly look steady on your feet yet. Are you alright?” I don’t want to ‘mother’ her, knowing she might not respond to it well, but she just nods. Knowing I’m not getting anything else out of her for the moment, I step inside the bar and look for ‘Sam the bartender’.

As I arrive at the counter, he sidles over with a quick, but not unnoticed, glance down my figure. Putting on a friendly smile, he leans on one elbow and asks, “Evening gorgeous, what can I get you?”

“Keys, please.” I reply, a bit short, so I put on my best “Waverly” smile to keep from appearing rude.

“I’m sorry?” Sam looks confused, but I raise my eyebrows and wait for it to dawn on him. “Ohhh, you must be here to collect the heartbroken officer. She’s a lover and a fighter, that one. I can just tell. She really put a dent in my stock of Tullamore Dew. Most people who come in to drink their pain away go for the cheap stuff…”

Reaching under the counter, he pulls out the patrol car keys, and I hold out my hand expectantly, but he doesn’t hand them over right away. Instead he hovers them over my palm, and asks, “Hey, it’s none of my business… but is she gonna be okay? She acted like her dog cheated on her and her boyfriend died. Her sadness runs deep, but I couldn’t get her to talk about it.”

Glancing up at him, tears threatening to pool in my eyes at the pain I’ve caused Nicole, I just nod and reply, “Yeah, something like that.”

Sam looks at me quizzically for a moment, then a sudden understanding seems to dawn on him, and he simply says, “Oh.” With a nod of his head and a sympathetic smile, he drops the keys into my open hand. I swipe the sleeve of my blouse fiercely across my eyes as I turn to leave, determined not to cry in front of these strangers. I’m only a few steps from the door when Sam calls out to me.

“Hey miss…” I turn and look at him over my shoulder. “She’ll forgive you, ya know? Whatever happened… she hasn’t given up. I could see it in her eyes.” With that, I take a deep, calming breath and walk through the door to take the beautiful heart I have broken home, determined to do everything I can to mend it.

When I emerge from the noise and stench of the bar into the cooling evening air, Nicole is still leaned casually against the cruiser. Her head is thrown back, looking up at the darkening sky as stars begin to twinkle into view. It’s then that I really get a moment to look at her. She’s wearing her favorite jeans that hug her hips just right and a black tank top under an orange and black plaid button up, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Her muscles are slack with the amount of alcohol she has consumed, but I can still feel the emotional tension rolling off of her. Her eyes look tired, and her lips are turned down. She’s both devastatingly sad and beautiful.

“Ready?” I ask softly and receive a resigned nod in return.

Opening the front passenger door for her, I place my hand on the small of her back in attempt to help guide her in. She wobbles slightly, but sits down and fumbles a bit with buckling her seatbelt. I circle the car, closing the two back doors and settling in behind the wheel. I have to adjust the seat in nearly every direction to make it comfortable for me, unable to reach the pedals from where Nicole can with her long legs. Cranking the car, I cautiously back out and set us back on the highway toward home.

For the first 20 minutes of our drive, we ride in silence. I don’t even know where to start, and Nicole seems content to rest her forehead against the cool glass of the passenger window. About the time I pluck up the courage to begin speaking, she reaches up to the radio without looking and sets it to the nearest preset station. The music is low, but it fills the car. For some reason, the song sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it. It seems as if it holds significance, yet I feel unsure if it’s the proper time to ask Nicole how I recognize it. She would remember. She remembers everything, and for once, that is not in my favor as I struggle to think of how to do what I came here to do.

As the song winds down to the end, I decide it might be the easiest ice breaker, so I ask her why the song sounds so familiar. In response, she mumbles something incoherent without lifting her forehead from the window.

“I didn’t understand a word of that.” I say, slightly deflated, and she turns her face forward, looking instead out of the windshield down the long, dark highway ahead of us.

“I said we danced to it in my kitchen, once.” She says a bit clearer, and I risk a glance at her, seeing sad, faraway eyes and nervous hands fidgeting in her lap. “The first night we stayed together there, I woke up and made you waffles. Vegan waffles, and we swayed to this song in our pajamas until the timer went off. I nearly burnt your breakfast.” Her slur was hardly noticeable now, but the slight emotion that clenched her throat as she relived the sweet memory was clear.

Unshed tears begin to sting my eyes at the wonderful moment we had shared, and all I had done to taint it and others like it. I knew we had to settle this now, or I might lose her forever. Pulling over to the shoulder on the deserted highway, I place the cruiser in park but leave it running. Nicole doesn’t even bother asking why we’ve stopped. Even drunk, she’s smart. As if needing me to confirm, she asked, “Why didn’t Dolls and Jeremy come to get me?”

“You know why.” I say, unbuckling my seatbelt and turning in the driver seat to face her, my back against the door and reach over and turn off the radio. “I need to explain, and I need you to listen. Even if you continue to hate me afterwa…”

“I don’t hate you,” she cuts me off, her voice quiet but sure.

“Okay…” I pause only for a moment to gather my thoughts. “I want to explain some things to you, and I want you to listen without interrupting until I’m through. I also want you to know that my explanation is by no means a way to justify what I did. I knew even as it was happening that it was wrong, and I could never have dreamed that I would be capable of hurting you that way, but I did. All I’m asking right now is that you hear me out before you pass your final judgement. I know it’s more than I have any right to ask, but will you do that for me? F-for us?”

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, she turns her face to me. Her eyes are haunted as they lock on mine, cheeks red and damp with fresh tears. I want nothing more than to reach out and tuck her hair out of her beautiful face and catch her tears with kisses, but what she needs right now is not my hands or my lips, but my words. With an almost imperceptible nod, she replies, “I can do that.” So I begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this and want to see where it leads, please leave comments. If this fic is well received, I have a longer potential fic for these characters in the works. A continuation, of sorts.
> 
> If you spot any errors, they are my own.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy, and all feedback is welcome!
> 
> Catch me on:  
> Instagram: @riverflynn7  
> Snapchat: riverflynn7  
> Tumblr: riverflynn7  
> Twitter: @riverflynn7


	5. Deserted Highway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly gets everything out in the open. A still-sobering Nicole surprises her with an unexpected response. Healing begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last installment for this fic. I currently have a continuation (of sorts) in the works, which will be longer.
> 
> As for this story, it's time for a bit of healing. Please enjoy!

**Nicole**

It’s been two hours since my last sip of whiskey, and though my head is still foggy, I try to sober up and listen carefully to Waverly’s words. I know that, even without her explanation, I will forgive her, but I think we both need this conversation, so I let her speak.

“Do you remember what I told you that day on Nedley’s couch?” Waverly asked, but continued on after only a breath, knowing the answer was yes. “I admitted that you scare me... The truth is that, though I’ve grown to trust you so completely, there are still moments in which I revert back to that scared girl you first met. Before you, my life was molded to what everyone else thought of me, expected of me."

Waverly licks her lips and stares forward through the windshield, as if picturing another life. 

"Before you, I thought I knew what the rest of my life would look like because I knew that a small town girl dating a small town boy and working at a small town bar would eventually settle down in a small town house and have small town kids. It was predictable and safe, and so… ordinary,” she talks animatedly with her hands making gestures in the air, “...that it was easy to know exactly how to handle all of the small town problems and challenges that faced me. And then, you found me, Nicole, and my world has turned completely upside down, flipped on its axis..."

She pauses, eyes sliding back over to me again. "Suddenly, there were no expectations, and it was so liberating... But then, after a while, it became terrifying in a new way. Now, I’m free to be who I am, and the trouble with freedom is that… when it comes all at once, it can be daunting. I wasted so much time being who I thought I _had_ to be that I didn’t take as much time as I should have to figure out who I _want_ to be. I tip-toed through life avoiding any mistakes for fear that people would discard me... like they did Wynonna.”

I wanted desperately to reach out and take her hand in that moment, hearing her vocalize the fear of abandonment that I knew was there all along, ever present no matter how many times I reassured her. Instead, I turned in my seat to face her, mirroring the way she sat to let her know that I was listening, really hearing her. Our eyes met, and I nodded, signalling for her to continue.

“Nicole… you are the first person in my life that I felt confident would never leave. You’re the only one who I trusted enough to stay, knowing we could have bad days, that we would face challenges, that we could argue, but by the end of it, we would find a way to push through. You and me. You’re also the only person I believed would not keep something from me because you always make me feel so strong, so capable. When you intercepted and hid my DNA results, it felt like a slap in the face. I know now that your intentions were good, and that you only ever wanted to protect me, but Nic, it felt like the one person who believed I could do anything had suddenly decided that I wasn’t strong enough to handle my own truth."

She takes a deep breath and looks away from me to gather her cracking composure, but when she continues, her voices still comes out a bit shaky.

"It felt like every time you’d made me feel empowered before that moment was a lie, and I was seeing how fragile you really believed me to be. I was angry and hurt… so when I spent the evening in a spa, venting to a new friend about the betrayal I felt, and she was so supportive and understanding, I was lulled into a false sense of closeness. I allowed myself to kiss her thinking that it would bring me comfort. But baby…” she pauses, sniffling a bit, but continues, “...from the moment it happened, all I could think of was how wrong it felt and the raw guilt that immediately settled in my chest. I never meant to cheat on you, and I would take it back a thousand times if I could, Nicole. I realized the instant that my lips met hers that I didn’t want it to be her. I really wanted it to be you."

Finally, her eyes meet mine, pools of hazel green peering into brown, pleading me to believe. "You’re the most important person in this world to me, and I can’t…” she takes in a few sharp gasps, emotion getting the better of her, but she presses on. “I can’t lose you. I am strong, and I am brave, but the one thing that scares me most, that I don’t have the strength to survive, is losing you.”

Tears are streaming heavily down her face now, and I can’t help it. I lean forward, placing my hands on her cheeks, and brush them away with my thumbs. I feel her lean into the contact, and she closes her eyes, sniffling as she struggles to recompose herself.

Giving a heavy sigh, I know that it’s my turn to do a bit of apologizing. I’ve said that I’m sorry numerous times for my own mistake, but an explanation within the context of her own mistake seems like the best way to finally put everything behind us. My hands fall away from her face.

“The text message you sent was so angry… bitter. Honestly, I think your words injured me more than the actual kiss, but combined…? I needed space to think. That’s why I walked away. As for the results, I never meant to hurt you, Waverly. I hid those results because I wanted to prepare you for something I knew would devastate you. You had just begun really figuring out your own identity, without the expectations of everyone around you, and I believed that being able to reveal the DNA results in a gentler way, or even convincing you not to look at all, would help prevent you from the pain. I know I had no right to keep them from you. I’ve apologized before, and I do, again. I’m sorry that I didn’t trust in your strength. Waves, you are the strongest, bravest person I know, and my urge to protect you was not due to doubting you, but a need to reassure myself. It was selfish, and I won’t make that mistake again.”

She looks at me now, confusion and a softness in her eyes. I know she must have expected  
something, anything, other than an apology in return. Maybe she thought I would yell at her or shut her out completely, but, in truth, I knew from the moment I drove away from the Homestead yesterday that this wasn’t over. I can’t walk away from her, no matter how much it hurts, because I love her. She has already woven herself into the very fabric of my being, and I know that I will always choose her.

“What now?” she asks, voice quiet in the stillness of the cruiser.

“I’ll find a way to move past it.” I tell her, sounding surer than I feel. Her face falls at the use of ‘I’ instead of ‘we’, so I continue, “...but I will need your help.”

“You will?” she looks up, hopeful eyes darting up to meet mine.

“I will always need you, Waverly.” I say this, barely more than a whisper, almost a prayer. She is my end and beginning.

My love looks at me as if I’ve given her the very moon that climbs its way into the eastern sky as we sit, my words circling around in the thick emotion surrounding us. Without warning, Waverly surges forward over the cruiser’s center console, fingers tangling in my hair, her lips crashing into mine with earth-shattering force. The impact rocks me backwards, jolting my head against the passenger window behind me with a loud thud, and I mumble “Ow…” against her lips.

She pulls away, eyes wide.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” she says, panicked hands attempting to soothe the spot where a knot already attempts to form. 

“Are you Earps trying to kill me?” I chuckle, ignoring her worry. I shift back into my seat, feet falling into the floorboard where they’re meant to be, and hook a hand under her knee to pull her with me. It takes her only a moment to realize she’s being maneuvered, straddling my lap, and she leans in again, kissing me with fierce intensity.

I try to put everything between us, every regret and betrayal and all my forgiveness into our kiss. I want this to be the turning point, want this moment of unbridled emotion to heal us. I’m sure there are still more things that need to be said, but in this moment, still slightly drunk, all I need is to feel her body against mine, solid and real and mine.

Her fingers tangle in my hair again as my hands settle on her waist, drawing her close. As if the connection is a lifeline, our kisses start becoming urgent, gasping for air each time we part. Despite the pain we’ve caused each other, I breathe her in like oxygen. Lost in her lips, I feel her practiced fingers undoing the final buttons down the lower front of my shirt and pushing her hands, palms flat against my chest, over my shoulders to pull the shirt down and off of my arms.

As soon as I’m free of the flannel, I relieve Waverly of the floral blouse she’s wearing, and my hands explore the firmly muscled but soft planes of her sides and back, raking short fingernails over her ribcage and eliciting a needy moan from her mouth. Scrambling to feel my skin, she tugs my tank top over my head, tousling my hair in the process. My lips find her neck, nipping and kissing from her jaw down to her collarbone, where I suck an angry purple mark into her tan skin.

I know I shouldn’t be possessive. It’s not really in my nature to be, but after her lapse in judgment with Rosita, I feel the overwhelming need to make her mine, even if the mark is temporary. I know she wants it as much as I do when I feel her fingernails clawing at the back of my shoulders, pressing me to her chest. When I pull away, surveying my handy work, I feel closer to her somehow.

Drunk on whiskey and Waverly, I raise my eyes to meet her gaze and see that her pupils are blown wide, eyes dark with lust. On a dark, deserted highway between our own personal slice of Hell and the rest of the world, we make love in a patrol car. Seat laid back and mistakes laid bare, we kiss each others’ emotional wounds until they’re nothing but scars healed over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this and want to let me know, or have any advice whatsoever on how to make it better, please leave comments. This was my first fic, and I'm viewing it as a learning experience.
> 
> By now, you've made it through all 5 chapters, so thanks for sticking with me, and I hope you'll check out my next WayHaught fic, coming in the near future.
> 
> If you spot any errors, they are my own.
> 
> Anyway, hope you've enjoyed this story, and all feedback is welcome! Much love, y'all!
> 
> Catch me on:  
> Instagram: @riverflynn7  
> Snapchat: riverflynn7  
> Tumblr: riverflynn7  
> Twitter: @riverflynn7


	6. Epilogue: Overwhelming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the hurt and healing the couple is forced to work through, here is a short continuation of fluff and domestic WayHaught.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so, so much for all the comments, kudos and support. I've really enjoyed writing this, and thought it would only be 5 chapters, but I just found myself needing one more part, so I hope you enjoy!

**Waverly**

Even after our heart to heart, laying bare all our secrets and mistakes, I’m still surprised at the ease with which Nicole and I fall back into sync with one another. Whether we’re at her house or the Homestead, we haven’t spent a single night apart since her overnight escape to the city. It’s difficult to say how, but I can tell in the way she holds me, the way her eyes look so deeply into mine, that she forgave me long before I showed up to drive her home. Her patience and understanding never ceases to amaze me. I doubt it ever will.

Tonight, everything feels so incredibly domestic and… right. Nicole is half an hour from being off duty, and I’ve decided to cook her dinner after the long week she’s had. Pulling into her driveway after a short trip to the market, I gather the groceries I’ve bought and fish my key to her front door out of my pocket. As soon as I step through the door, a ginger cloud of fluff begins cutting figure eights around my ankles, mewling for a few scratches under the chin and a meal of her own.

“Careful, CJ. If you trip me, I will not be sneaking you an extra treat before Nicole gets home.” I warn her playfully, knowing full-well it’s a hollow threat. She purrs in response, completely unphased.

Dropping the bags on the counter beside the sink, I return to the front entrance to kick off my shoes and hang my light jacket and scarf on a hook above them. Turning back into the room, I pause a moment, taking in the space and inhaling the gentle lingering scent of vanilla mixed with some other fragrance that is so uniquely Nicole. 

Despite the effort Wynonna and I made to reclaim the Homestead from negative memories and the abuse of neglect over time, it always feels a little haunted. Too many people have come and gone, leaving too many silent memories waiting in the corners of every room to pounce on you when you least expect it.

Nicole’s house, however, holds only one bad memory, the day Widow Mercedes bit my love, pumping her with a venom that nearly took her from me, but the sting of that event has been erased, overshadowed by the love and comfort we’ve found here since. The space is warm and safe, like the woman herself, and it feels like home. It has become our personal haven from all the madness that follows my family and friends around.

Having Doc and Dolls help us bury ammolite beneath the foundation, Nicole’s property is now nearly as protected as the Homestead, therefore, no crazy or evil can harm us here. It also provides a much more private space to avoid the constant, inevitable interruptions my sister provides on every occasion my girlfriend and I attempt to share even a remotely intimate moment alone. This house has become a sort of sanctuary for us, and I’m grateful that we have it to retreat to.

I turn some music on the bluetooth stereo to fill the silence, and with a contented sigh, I set about gathering the dishes and ingredients I need to prepare a hot meal for my hardworking baby when she gets home. Nearly forty minutes later, I do not hear the door open and close. I don’t hear the two heavy police-issue uniform boots hit the floor next to mine in the front entrance, nor do I hear Nicole’s socked feet shuffle toward the kitchen to lean against the door facing.  
By the time I turn around and notice her, I’m passionately belting out the chorus of a cheesy pop song into my wooden spoon “microphone” after having just stirred the simmering dish I’ve prepared. She has her hand over her mouth, eyes alight with laughter she is barely containing.

Knowing I have the option to either be embarrassed or play it off, I bolster my nerve a bit and put a little extra wiggle in my hips as I dance over to her. It’s obvious her eyes darken just slightly with desire, so I reach up and take a fistful of fabric at the front of her uniform shirt, turning and strutting back over to the stove with her in tow. She puts up no resistance, instead allowing me to drag her forward, jaw dropped open slightly at my brazenness, so I throw her a seductive smirk over my right shoulder. When we reach the stove, I turn to face her, happy to find there’s no more than half an inch of open space between us.

I can feel the heat rolling off of her body, eyes growing even darker with want, and she grins. Lifting the lid off the pan, I dip out a spoonful of the dish and purse my lips, blowing on it to cool it off, eyes locked on Nicole while hers are glued to my lips. Bringing the sample to her mouth, her gaze flits to mine as I feed her, and she let’s loose an appreciative hum at the taste. I’m so satisfied with her response that a low heat flashes through my lower abdomen, the warning signs of my growing arousal.

Setting the spoon aside, I brace against the cabinet, hoisting myself up to sit on the counter, and cross my right knee over my left. Her eyes never leave mine as I sing the final lines of the song, but her hands finally find my thighs, slowly parting my knees and stepping between them. She leans in, hands traveling to my hips, hoping to close the final space between us, but I lean back, putting a finger to her lips. Her eyes flash, that hungry flame of desire growing. She knows I’m testing the limits of her patience. She waits. I know she will always wait for me to give her permission. Still, her tongue snakes out and licks the pad of my finger.

“Yes.” I say on a desperate exhale. Hooking that same finger under her chin, and tilting it up a little rougher than necessary, I finally give in, crashing my mouth to hers. The kiss deepens as quickly as it begins, all tongue and teeth. Her hands roam my body, and mine are tangled in her hair, lost in waves of fiery red. Giving the hair just above the nape of her neck a firm tug, she lets out something between a moan and a growl. I’ve definitely captured her full attention.

Catching her bottom lip between my teeth, I pull away just as the timer on the oven rings, making her jump and breaking us from our feverish liplock. With a frustrated sigh, Nicole drops her forehead to my shoulder, and I stroke a hand through her hair with a chuckle. She takes a step back to allow me to hop down from the counter.

“Don’t worry, baby.” I say, reaching up on my toes to place one last kiss to her lips.  
“We’ll pick up right where we left off. But first, come eat this meal that your amazing girlfriend prepared for you while it’s still hot.”

“Yes ma’am,” she says with a roguish grin, “but I’m holding you to that promise of dessert.”

Over dinner, we talk about our day. Nicole was out at the old Wheaton ranch for the first half of her shift, looking into a potential poaching case. The second half of her shift consisted of working a fender bender and a few traffic stops before heading back to her desk to file all the paperwork that created. It was not a thrilling day, but I could tell by the set of her shoulders that it was a tiring one. Her weariness didn’t, however, prevent her from being completely enthralled as I told her animatedly about the research I’d spent the whole morning pouring over.

One of the things I love about Nicole is how attentive she is. I can talk for hours on end about some obscure myth or forgotten language, and though she knows nothing about it, she listens with intent, soaking up every excited word that tumbles from my mouth. It’s such a simple thing, to have someone give you their undivided attention, and yet, it’s so rare. She looks at me with awe as I ramble, no judgement, only adoration. I’m convinced that there is no one else on this earth like Nicole Haught. How she managed to find and fall for me, I’ll never know, but I do know that I will never take it for granted again.

Nicole insists on helping with the dishes after we eat, even though I tell her to go change out of her uniform while I take care of them.

“You cooked for me. I can’t, in good conscience, leave you with the mess, too, baby.” She leans over and places a tender kiss to my temple where I stand beside her, drying the dishes she scrubs and hands my way. I can’t help but admire the way the muscles in her forearms move while she works, uniform sleeves rolled up to the elbow to keep them dry. How can forearms be that sexy? Maybe it’s simply because they’re hers.

“There are other ways to put these hands to use.” Nicole says, voice low as she winks at me, seeing my eyes lingering on her. I turn away to hide the blush in my cheeks at being caught, but when I turn back, she blows a handful of fluffy bubble suds into my face. As I react, attempting to bat the bubbles away, I hear her laugh, a full-hearted laughter that comes from deep within, and I can’t help but laugh with her. My face is now covered in sudsy foam, and there’s no way I’m letting her get away with it.

Scooping a handful of my own, I plant it right across the right side of her face, making her splutter as I rake them across her mouth. Before she can back away, I loop my free hand around her neck to brace myself and hop up toward her, knowing that when I wrap my legs around her hips, she’ll catch me, and she does. Now face-to-face, and both covered in white fluff, she leans in and nuzzles her nose to my cheek.  
Even a bubble fight is short lived because this woman always makes me melt.  
Taking mercy on her, I use my dry hand to gently clear the suds away so that I can see her beautiful face. Swiping my face clean, as well, I softly press my lips to hers and feel her smile against my mouth, dimples on fully display. It only takes a moment to realize Nicole has turned around, carrying me toward the bedroom.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, Officer Haught?” I whisper.

“If I have _half_ the effect on you that you have on me,” she quirks an eyebrow and steals another kiss, and with it, my heart all over again, “it must be _overwhelming_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again! Please leave comments to let me know what you think.
> 
> If you spot any errors, they are my own.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy, and all feedback is welcome!
> 
> Catch me on:  
> Instagram: @riverflynn7  
> Snapchat: riverflynn7  
> Tumblr: riverflynn7  
> Twitter: @riverflynn7
> 
> If you liked this, check out my WayHaught oneshot, When Skies Are Grey: 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/15604689

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and want to see where it leads, please leave comments. If this fic is well received, I have a longer potential fic for these characters in the works. A continuation, of sorts.
> 
> If you spot any errors, they are my own.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy, and all feedback is welcome!
> 
> Catch me on:  
> Instagram: @riverflynn7  
> Snapchat: riverflynn7  
> Tumblr: riverflynn7  
> Twitter: @riverflynn7


End file.
